


Healing

by Bisexualtrashlord



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Crucifixion, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 11:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bisexualtrashlord/pseuds/Bisexualtrashlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron is saved from Hell at the brink of death.<br/>"War of the Damned" canon-AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the still of Agron all bandaged in the "War of the Damned" trailer.

_The pain was unbearable. The sharp jolt of nail being hammered into flesh was enough to drive any man to shear madness, the ache of overstretched limbs and muscle being torn at the core would have even the strongest man begging for death. Agron at last knew what hell felt like._

It was supposed to be a simple mission; Spartacus appointed three people to scan the city for any Roman activity and report back to him. It was set out at nightfall, so they would not be easily seen and kill if needed. Agron, Saxa and Donar had volunteered their service without any hesitation. He had promised Nasir a safe return the next morning. They were not expecting Caesar to be aware of their plans and be waiting for them with an army behind them, brandishing swords illuminated in the light of the moon.

He had not expected Donar to be captured by Caesar himself and taken to Crassus like a fresh hunt, Gods only wondering what would be his fate. He twisted and writhed in his grasp but a hit with blunt sword hilt was enough to silence him. The crack of hilt meeting face was enough to make Agron’s stomach churn. Saxa was the only one to escape the fray, only suffering a slice on her leg to go back to the camp and report news to Spartacus. Agron swore he saw hot tears pricking the fierce fighter’s face.

He did not have much time to think before he was met with a boot in his side, knocking breath from lungs and blood from veins and leaving him a twisted mass to the cold ground.

“What of this one?” a Roman shit spat, looking down at him with a wry smile. Caesar bent down to the ground and grabbed Agron’s face and twisted it from side to side. After a moment, he said,

“There is nothing left of him. Take him to the Via.” And with a turn of his heels he left the German in a heap on the ground, waiting for two soldiers to grab him roughly by the arms and drag him away.

The Via Appia would be his fate. That only means one thing…

He his headed to the cross

**~~~~~~ooooo~~~~~~`**

The camp was calm this night, with an easy breeze cooling the weary soldiers. With everyone fed and the wounded tended by steady hands, all the fighters could do was rest in preparation for the coming day.

Nasir waited patiently on the steps, eagerly waiting for his heart to return to his arms. He would be ready to greet him and treat any wounds to soothe aching body and balm with gentle kisses and gentle hands.

“You wait like loyal pup expecting master.” Castus teased, taking seat by his friend with a smirk.

“I have no master, no longer; I wait like lover awaiting hasty return of another.” Nasir quipped simply with a smirk of his own. His bright demeanor began to ebb when he saw Saxa approach. Alone.

“Help! Help please! Fetch Spartacus!” Saxa cried, with sword gripped in hand and sweat and tears on her brow. Nasir’s skin crawled when he saw the blood paint her legs.

Spartacus appeared from his planning tent in a flash, eyes darting about looking for the source of distress.

“What has happened?” their leader demanded, striding straight to Saxa whose leg was being treated by Naevia’s steady hands.

“The mission...Ceaser and his legion found out…somehow. We tried to fight them off…too many. Donar was captured, taken to Crassus. I know not of Agron’s fate…I heard of crucifixion…” Saxa heaved with ragged breaths.

There were cries and shouts of panic throughout the camp, Nasir felt his heart stop. Agron, crucified…

“They must be sentencing him to the Via Appia.” Spartacus reasoned, “I would have words.” He said curtly.

He called for his most trusted allies to enter his planning tent, maps and battle plans strewn about on every table.

“The reconnaissance mission is now a rescue for our comrade. I would have a small band accompany me in an attempt to free him from the Roman chains.” There were nods throughout the tent and rebels volunteered without a moment’s delay.

That night Spartacus, Nasir, Gannicus, Naevia and Saxa left the camp and began their journey to the Via to see their fellow fighter rescued. Nasir ran with purpose. He would see his heart safely returned to them, or die trying.

**~~~~0000000~~~~**

“It is a true shame. I would have thought this fuck would put up more of a fight, being one of Spartacus’ men.” A soldier drawled out, moving his head with a mud caked boot.

“Yes, but even the strongest men fall eventually.” The other replied, gathering the nails and hammer to begin their work.

The cold, sharp nail and the pungent smell of rust nearly drove Agron to insanity. With his hands and feet bound he felt like a captured animal being put on display for the hunters’ amusement. The soldiers began to kick and prod Agron for their sick fucking amusement, turning his right side into a horrible purple and blue patch. His eye was bruised and swollen, almost closing shut. The only thing worse than the pain he felt pulse through his body was the pain of knowing he would never see Nasir again.

He would never feel the warm dark skin against his, he would never again see the beautiful eyes that make his heart soar. He would never have the life with him that he had always wanted; far away from the Roman pricks and far away from war. The thought brought tears to his eyes.

Agron never thought this would be the way he would die. Being a gladiator, he had always hoped that this death would be a noble one, dying in the arena with cheers roaring from the spectators. He hoped that he would die in battle alongside his comrades fighting to keep his freedom. He had hoped that he would die old and gray with his lover by his side to see him to safe passage to the afterlife, with Duro ready to greet him. He hadn’t expected to die nailed to a fucking piece of wood.

The two soldiers were about to hoist him up to begin his slow demise but the slash of swords and the cry of fighters kept him from his fate. With what strength he could muster he cracked his eye open and saw Spartacus and the others killing those who would see his end.

Nasir stopped fighting and ran to Agron’s side and began to examine his face and searched for signs of life. The panicked expression on his face broke his heart.

“Do…do not look so distressed, Little Man. It would take more than this to kill me.” Agron rasped out, with a small smile, only for Nasir.

The Syrian’s head shot up. He choked a small sob and bit back tears, giving a relived smile as well. He brushed his lips over Agron’s bruised eye before turning away from him.

“He yet lives!” Nasir cried to the others. Naevia gently removed the nails from Agron’s hands and feet with the help of Saxa, Spartacus and Gannicus carried him back to camp. The last thing he saw was Naevia leading them back before his vision went blurry.

When consciousness returned to him, he found himself in a dark room, softly lit by candles. From what little he could raise his head; he could see that his torso was covered in white bandages. He turned to the right and saw Nasir by his side, keeping vigil over his lover. Agron smiled softly to himself. He would live to fight another day.

He was safe.


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agron yet lives, with the help of another. A bath and gentle touches does not hurt, either.

 

 

 

_Agron awoke to find himself on a in a dark room lighted with only a few candles. From what little he could raise his head he saw that his torso was completely covered in white bandages and bandages covering his hands as well. He turned slightly and saw Nasir, keeping vigil over his lover. Agron smiled softly to himself. He was safe._

“It would do well to seek sleep,” Agron said when he cleared his throat, gently brushing his gauzed hand over Nasir’s cheek. Nasir blinked and looked up at his face; he breathed a sigh of relief to see his heart beating once again.

“Without it you would see yourself in my sorry state.” Agron finished with a strained chuckle; he made an attempt to sit up but he was met with a harsh, sharp pain pulsing through his entire body. He would have met the table with a hard thud if it was not for the quick and expert hands of his Syrian.

“Stay down. Do not attempt to move just yet.” Nasir said gently, coaxing Agron back on the table.

“Fuck!” Agron hissed, lying still as he tried to regain feeling (or lack thereof) in his body again.

“The Medicus said that five or your ribs have been cracked and one has been broken. You are badly bruised, your eye as well. We bandaged your hands and legs, but it will be a while before you may properly hold a blade again.” Nasir informed him with a sad smile, carding his fingers through Agron’s hair, a gesture shared between only the two of them. A private prayer.

Agron leaned into the fingers and closed his eyes, “To think, a former gladiator who faced death everyday was almost bested by being nailed to a piece of wood and hung like a babe’s doll. The gods come up with the cruelest jests.”

“Do not say such things or you will be taken from me again.” Nasir said seriously, untying the bandages and applying the salve.

“I had not thanked you for coming to my aid. Gratitude.” Agron murmured placing his hand atop Nasir’s.

Nasir finished his work with the bandages and faced Agron again, “You thank me enough by being here, with a heart that still beats.” He said, leaning over and placing a gentle kiss to the scar over Agron’s heart.

“Rest now. I will seek food and drink for us.” Nasir said pressing a kiss to Agron’s eye before leaving the room.

**~~~~00000~~~~**

With the help of Nasir and Naevia, Agron was recuperating from his injuries smoothly. After weeks of being bed ridden, and much scolding from Naevia whenever he made attempt to train, he gained movement in his hands and legs once again. Throughout his healing the German had never felt antsier, itching to pick up sword and fight alongside his brothers again for their freedom. Nasir and the others would go off on scouting missions and raids, Agron being left behind every time.

“This time you stay, and I go.” Nasir would say with a gentle kiss.

With so little movement in his hands he could do nothing more than to sort supplies in their camp with some of the former slaves. Agron was a fighter, not a fucking book keeper! Duro must be laughing at him, he could hear his brother now: _You stock like a woman!_

More weeks had passed, and after much time being idle Agron was given permission to have the gauze taken off.  “If you do not cease your squirming you will see yourself with another wound.” Nasir said as he meticulously unwrapped the bandages.

“You were in the same state of eagerness when you had dressings removed, as I recall.” Agron replied with a small smirk, but nonetheless remained still while Nasir finished his work. Within minutes the gauze was removed to reveal healed flesh and muscle. Nasir and Agron shared a smile.

“Gratitude…” Agron said, gently dragging his hand over his side. His movement was stopped by Nasir placing his hand over Agron’s, bringing it to his lips.

“There is more. Come,” he said, gently tugging Agron’s hand leading him out of the room and down a series of hallways.

Nasir had stopped in front of a room that went rarely used by the rebels. In the large villa they temporarily called home, there lived a small bath, previously taken for granted by the Romans who once occupied it. To the rebels, this was no more than a small luxury; one they would indulge if their busy lives allowed them.

Nasir walked further into the room towards the bath and dipped his fingers into the water. He looked up at Agron who was still in the doorway and gestured him to come forward with a small smile.

The Syrian silently took off Agron’s remaining armor and subligaria and let them fall carelessly to the stone floor. Nasir kept his eyes locked on Agron’s as he took off his own remaining clothes, leaving the two lovers naked together. Nasir took Agron’s hand and helped him lower into the bath; Agron letting out a relaxed sigh when flesh made contact with warm water.

“Hot water and gentle touch, the perfect remedy to soothe weary muscles.” Agron breathed while Nasir ran wet, calloused hands over the German’s broad shoulders.

Nasir continued his gentle ministrations in comfortable silence, sometimes humming what he can remember of a song from his homeland, the only thread of memory he has left. He turned Agron around and ran his hands over his back, stopping when he saw the jagged scar that crossed his back that was once angry and bleeding, now closed and healed.

Agron made note of Nasir’s stopped hands, “What troubles thoughts?” he asked turning around.

“Nothing, I was making note of our matching scars from battle.” He answered with a smirk as he traced the scar on his back once again.

“We both share marks of victory now,” Agron mused, dragging his calloused fingers over Nasir’s scar on his side, leaving only closed and raised flesh. Agron drew Nasir closer into his arms and lowered them deeper into the bath, making themselves comfortable on the shallow steps. Agron placed his hands on Nasir’s cheeks and gently made him look at him.

“I swear to you, we will see ourselves through this. We will win this battle and live to start our lives. We will never part from each other again.” Agron said sternly, looking Nasir dead in the eyes.

“I would never see you bare such horrid wounds again.” He continued, tracing finger’s over Nasir’s side, making the Syrian shudder a breath.

“Wounds mean nothing as long as heart still beats.” Nasir replied placing soft kiss over Agron’s heart. Soon the Syrian’s lips found Agron’s and kisses became heated; Agron’s wet hands found Nasir’s smooth hair, tangling them deeper. The couple broke apart and they shared breath.

“Shared breath, shared heart.” Nasir said with a smile, pressing gentle lips against lover’s once again.

They spent half the day together that way, sharing relief of living another day.


End file.
